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gwilymz · 2 years

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i wanna be your mantra--kendall roy x reader

heyy here i am with my kendall x reader oneshot as promised... i hope at least someone enjoys xoxo thank you!

pairing: kendall roy x reader

synopsis: you are kendall’s assistant, but your dynamic is unconventional, and toeing the line of toxic. so, when he interrupts your night to ask a favor of you, it’s hard to say no, and neither of you expect it to end with him on top of you in the back of the company limo.

p.s. based on this ask, so thank you for the inspo!

word count: 5.8k (sry)

warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (?), dirty talk, praise/degradation kink, oral (F receiving), etc. etc.

———

Your and Kendall's relationship could be explained in three words: complicated, tense, obsessive.

You worked for him--under him, technically. But not literally. Unfortunately. The job was exhausting: late nights in the city without the fun, lavish dinners paid for by exploitation, and fueled by passive aggression. For the Roy's, relationships were strictly transactional, and you had grown to suppress your sensitivities around them. You had become good at the facade; the veneer that you were confident, and that nothing, no matter how vile and vicious, could ever make you cry. And, after a couple of years, you had surprisingly never cried in front of the Roys: that was saved for corners, the bathroom, anywhere they couldn’t find your vulnerability.

But, after working for Kendall for almost two and a half years, it was inevitable that the shiny copper exterior of your personalities would erode, to show the more aged complexion of who you were, a rusty mint that wasn’t quite ugly, but instead just real, genuine.

There had been a dozen or so nights when the professionalism of your relationship with Kendall had been challenged. Especially when Kendall was deep in the throes of his substance abuse, there were months when it seemed like every night Kendall would tell you to come over, that he needed someone--anybody--to be with him.

And, it would’ve been easy to oblige, to leave the house in lip gloss and not realize the symbolism behind your applying it. But you always said no, mostly because him saying he would be willing to invite anyone over made it seem like you weren’t the antidote, but just a temporary distraction, somebody who just probably had nothing better to do.

And sometimes, work was odd with him. He had never outright flirted with you, but the air would change when you would casually mention a date to him; he would roll his eyes and bite his lip so hard it turned a stark white, different from the warm pink you were so used to looking at. So keen on looking at.

And sometimes you did the same. If Roman or Shiv or anyone joked about a past--or current--hookup of Kendall’s, you would become bitchy, short, immeasurably immature. It was completely unprofessional to give your boss the cold shoulder, but that was the relationship you had. It was inexplicably unconventional, full of a tension that made others avoid entering a room when its cloud would loom over, daunting and unpredictable.

Kendall often thought about how much you fucking annoyed him, too. He told it to everyone and anyone who would listen, but most of the time, he told it to you, explicitly, without care for your feelings. Maybe he should have felt bad, guilty–but something deep within him loved it. Loved the power he had over you, how sometimes your big eyes would look into his, brows furrowed with bewilderment, holding your tongue because you knew Kendall didn’t really particularly enjoy being interrupted.

“Y/N, what the fuck is your problem?” Kendall slammed the door of his office, holding his phone flush to his ear, his free arm leaned against the wall. “I told you to tell Johnston we can wait on the meeting, not to fucking tell him it's off--I swear to God if this--,”

You rushed to get a word in, interrupting him. “Listen, I did tell him that--”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me. I’m not finished.”

“Okay, my bad.” You backtracked. You were on your way to the office, a tray of cappuccinos in hand, balancing them as you pressed the button to the elevator.

“I need you to figure this out. I’m not fucking dealing with this. If this deal with him is out, I never want to fucking see you again.”

Kendall been vicious like this a lot--he had pushed papers off desks, slammed doors, even smashed a laptop or two, but his words always hurt the most. Sharp and venomous, they pierced you, pushing their poison into your veins, making it so hard to forget their presence--they would literally pump through you, repeating themselves, a mantra of your shortcomings.

The tears came without your permission--usually you could choke them back, attribute them to something else, or feign your way to freedom, but it was difficult, as you reached Kendall’s office, to get away with any of these tactics.

You left one of the coffees on his desk, opting to call Johnston--the owner of a small social-media start up--to fix your mistake. As you dialed, slowly closing the cold glass door of Kendall’s office, he gestured for you to hang up.

“No, don’t call,” he shook his head, taking a sip from the to-go cup. It was tiny in his hand; you could see his veins pulsing, a tell-tale sign he was upset, riddled with stress.

“You just told me--”

“I know I did.” He interrupted. “I figured if I want this done right, I should probably do it myself.”

Again, with the words--they always hurt. You didn’t know where the gall came from. “Picking up quotes, are we?”

“Excuse me?” He questioned, leaning against his desk.

“I’m just sure you hear that a lot, after all your fucks, you know.”

The silence hung in the air, ballooning with unspoken expletives, insults, the incessant odor of years’ old sexual tension.

He motioned for you to come over to him, pulling his suit jacket off and throwing it across his chair. When you were close enough, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you, so he could whisper into your ear.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Are we clear?” He dropped your wrist. “Look at me. Are we fucking clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

Kendall tilted your chin up, looking into your eyes firmly, with a dominance that made your knees feel weak and your throat dry with a germinating anxiety. “Why don’t you take the day off? We obviously aren’t seeing eye to eye today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You furrowed your brows, confused. A day off and Kendall weren’t words that meshed together. “But–”

“No.” He was firm, ushering you out of the door. “I’ll fucking see you tomorrow. A day won’t kill you. We don’t even like each other. Obviously.”

And then the door was shut, the wind pushing your hair back with a malicious force. He was punishing you; he knew you were a workaholic–that’s why he hired you. Even the salary didn’t keep people around for long; Kendall was intense, problematic, a true Roy in every sense of its connotation. But you were clever, a perfectionist, and addicted to the one thing that didn’t come by all too often: being praised by Kendall.

The feeling of his unbridled appreciation–a laugh at your jokes, a term of ownership, the subtle she works for me–was euphoric. And their scarcity was what made them so coveted to you, a reward more valuable than your biweekly check.

You left, annoyed. Tired of matching quality with quantity and never receiving more than a “Alright, I need you to do this now.” You were spreading yourself exceptionally thin, so thin that your feelings had become transparent and incompatible with the opaque front of your usual robotic, emotionless facade.

Maybe the day off wasn’t a bad idea, and maybe you needed a drink, and maybe you needed someone to take your mind off of how fucking annoying your boss was.

So there you were, hours later, in a taut green dress and black heels across from a friend of your friend’s boyfriend. You feigned interest in his job, laughed a little too hard at his jokes, and looked to him for affection–any kind of fleeting admiration, just a tinge of longing. Even if it expired the next morning and grew sour and curdled, you were desperate, searching for his placeholder. But you didn’t want to admit to yourself just who you were referring to. So you didn’t. You pretended like Kendall didn’t bother you–until he literally bothered you again.

“I thought I said we would see each other tomorrow,” Kendall placed his hands on your shoulders, making steady eye contact with your date. You couldn’t see him, but you knew his look was lethal; as easily as his eyes could reflect deject and sorrow, they could also emanate a concentrated hatred that had to have taken decades of practice–or mirroring his father. You felt the grip on the back of your chair tighten. “It’s only been a few hours.”

You turned around, setting your drink down as quietly as possible–as if the consistent pumping of a generic, bassy tempo wouldn’t already drown its subtle clink. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you raised your eyebrows. “So you’re following me now?”

“Following, no. I thought you wouldn’t be here, you know, uh, since you always have a fuckin’ stick up your ass.”

Your date butted in, thoroughly confused. “Uh, who is this?”

“My boss.” You answered, nonchalantly. As if that wouldn’t raise more questions, such as why his hands had migrated to your shoulders, and why your legs visibly squeezed together at initial contact, an involuntary reflex.

“Speaking of,” Kendall moved both of his hands to one shoulder, squeezing tighter. “We should talk about Johnston. I, uh, changed my mind about a few things.”

“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” You quipped through gritted teeth.

“It can’t.” He gave your date–if you could even call it that–a tight-lipped smile. “Come on, now.” His hands pressed down on your shoulders harder; it felt like all the strength you had left had been channeled into him. You were weak around him, unable to stand up without having pathetically wobbly knees that you attributed to your heels.

Once you had stood up, Kendall’s hand was on your lower back, leading you to a back corner. It was dark; the soft, ambient lighting of the rest of the bar had stopped sharply, leaving you and Kendall obscured, the only source of sight the periodic opening and closing of the nearby bathroom door.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked, throwing his hand away from you. Your eyebrow twitched, angry at how the only consistent thing about Kendall was the sheer power he had over you to make you do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“I didn’t.” Kendall deadpanned. Even in the dark, it was obvious he was looking at your physique in the dress you had worn, an olive green silk slip that hugged your torso. Slightly promiscuous, but classy, elegant.

“Bullshit.”

Kendall pulled you closer as the door to the bathroom swung open. You looked like a bickering couple, and that made your heart palpitate, a shallow longing piercing the skin of your chest. “Fine, Greg told me.”

“How the fuck does Greg know where I am?” You knit your brows together, confused.

Kendall squeezed your shoulder, one of his rare, toothy grins emerging through the beacon of light from the cracked door next to him. “You fuckin’ recommended this place to him or something. I thought you there was a slim chance you might be here if you weren’t home.”

“And you knew I wasn’t home?”

“You didn’t answer your phone. Usually means you’re at work or out somewhere. I don’t fuckin’ know. Shot in the dark.” Kendall took a deep breath, his eyes following a waitress taking a few flutes of bronze champagne to a table across the room. “Listen, I actually do need something of you. And I’m actually going to get on my knees and fucking beg you.”

Kendall actually began to drop, until you intercepted, pulling him up by his elbow. “Jesus Christ,” You whispered. “What do you need? I’m off the clock right now.”

“That’s why I’m begging.”

“Okay, just spit it out.”

He sighed deeply, pulling the collar of his crisp shirt away from his neck. “There’s the gala tonight–”

“No.” You shrugged. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“I haven’t finished.” He paused. “What’s wrong with a gala?”

“It’s not a gala. It’s a Waystar gala full of fucking Roys.”

Kendall rolled his eyes. “You work for a Roy, I’d watch it.”

“Just–” You rubbed your temples. “Continue.”

“Wow, fuckin’ thank you.” He said facetiously. “There’s the gala tonight, I had a date. I cancelled on her. Called Johnston, and he said that the deal is back on, but he wants to come tonight. To, uh, see the Waystar spirit or some shit?”

You stared at him blankly. “There is no spirit. People who come in with spirit leave with an alarming deficit of fucking spirit.”

Kendall pressed his hands together. “Okay, this is when I literally start begging. I’m going to get on my fucking knees and plead. I’ll, uh, fucking buy you whatever you want.”

Your cheeks flushed; it felt like you were high or drunk or something beyond that. For once, you had the upper hand on Kendall; you held the golden, winning card.

“Please.” Kendall reiterated. A flash of something—vulnerability, guilt—flashed over his features. But it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

You thought about it. It wasn’t like the date with the man-whose-name-you-would-never-quite-remember was going well; that within itself proved it. But Kendall’s entitlement, the waltz he always did where he would step into a situation and flip it to favor whatever the fuck he wanted—fucking annoyed you.

“I don’t understand this. You.” You shrugged, opting for a non-answer.

Kendall mirrored your shrug. “What’s there to understand.” He worded it like a statement, like nothing he did ever deserved the hanging of the unknown, the hesitant stamp of a question mark.

“I’m busy. I’m here doing something.” The cocktail you had downed before “running into” Kendall had boosted your confidence, and a newfound lust for this strange feeling to persist settled deep in your belly, an autumn leaf swaying onto the newly dead winter grass. “Why does it fucking matter if I’m there?”

Kendall weaved his fingers together. “I think it would be good for the deal if you came with me. As my date. Just as a business thing. Purely Business. Keep the gala open to everyone, show him it's tight-knit, it's friendly–it’s not just the Roys coming to keep their name on the inheritance check.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. It was cold; a metallic draft of air pinched your exposed skin. “Okay. Not a bad idea. But I work there. It’s gonna seem like everyone was forced.”

“Just–” He began. “It’s low stakes. Just come with me, you can get tipsy on free champagne, ride home in a limo.”

“You’re acting like I even have a choice to decline.”

Kendall checked his watch, leaning into you. “You can decline. But I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

“Fear mongering. That’s cute.” You linked your arm in his. “I’ll go. But not because of that.”

“Atta girl.”

—--

The gala was at 9; it was nearing then, but Kendall had ducked you into the limo, insisting you looked perfect for the occasion. You tried not to let those words ring like a mantra; the inside of your head was radio silence after the elusive compliment–no matter how trivial it was to Kendall at the moment. It almost felt like you were actually his date.

As the doors to the limo shut, it was just you and Kendall in the back, engulfed in a silence that was tactile, sticky with tension and apprehension about the gala, the deal, if this was actually about what Kendall said it was.

It was cold outside, and you sat next to each other in the prim limousine, legs flush against his as the limo winded through the twisted back roads, out of the sleepless swarm of the city and into the lazy nook of the suburbs, where willow trees swayed instead of the hands of passersby, yearning for a taxi.

Kendall shifted, not uncomfortable, but perhaps a little bit; he felt odd at how much he fucking burned for you. You looked amazing in the dress. In his mind was you, in that dress on repeat–a silent reel fueled by a lust so obsessive it could only belong to a bereft Kendall Roy. He leaned his head back on the hot leather seat, thinking about how the curve of your hips looked in the taut silk of your dress, your cleavage when you bent over, your ass.

You turned to him, desperate to fill the heavy silence with something. “Should we prepare? Like what we’re going to say to Johnston about the deal?”

Kendall snapped out of his haze, a fuzzy head high that could only be brought on by you. “Oh, um, I was just thinking we would focus more on the moment. I’m not too worried.”

You leaned forward. Kendall’s eyes flitted away from your cleavage. “Kendall, focusing on the moment?”

“Happens every once in a while, usually when I’m–”

“On a coke binge?” You regretted saying it, but Kendall giggled, surprisingly.

“You’re not wrong.” Your necklace dangled as you leaned into him due to the turning of the limo into a cobblestone driveway.

The bubble of intimacy of the backseat–your bodies pushed together from the cold and unspoken yearning–was popped as the driver opened the back door, letting you and Kendall out. You felt awkward, completely unsure of what to do. You had been to one other Waystar Gala and had promised yourself you would never go to another one for as long as you lived. They were usually chock-full of drama, and every attendee without the shiny Roy name tag was usually a pawn in some dirty Royco scam of theirs. But Kendall in a suit and those hazel eyes–you couldn’t say no even if you fucking wanted to.

You walked towards the venue, a huge country club near the Hamptons, far away from the chaotic, capitalist jungle of Manhattan. Here, it was quiet; you could only hear the faint clink of glasses, feigned laughter, the clicking of overpriced dress shoes against wooden floors.

Kendall was assured in his movements, much more than you were. He strode up to meet your pace, pulling you in by your waist. “You’re freezing, Y/N.” His fingertips grazed your shoulder blade, pricked with goosebumps. “Do you want my jacket?”

You shook your head. “No, no.” You answered. “We’ll be inside in a second.”

This new Kendall–you didn’t know how to feel about him. You had never really seen him before; you were used to the pulsing vein in his neck, a patronizing tone, pacing back and forth and the unmistakably stressful go, go, go attitude that always possessed him. Here, he was calm, soft-spoken, charming, chivalrous.

Weirdly, you missed the Kendall that was rude and entitled, the one who would fuck you over in a second if that meant he got what he wanted.

“You nervous?” Kendall replied. The wooden door opened, a rush of energy seething into your bloodstream, amalgamating with the hours-old alcohol. He could feel the tenseness in your muscles. Whether that was a side effect from his touch, or the looming torture of what the gala would bring–you were unsure.

“A little.” You admitted.

Kendall tapped on his coat pocket. “We could take the edge off.”

You shook your head. “No, Kendall. I’m not–”

“Fucking relax,” Kendall dug in the pocket, pulling out a heavy lighter. “It’s a joint.”

You rolled your eyes, looking around. The coast was clear; Logan and Marcia were talking to Roman and Shiv, not worried about Kendall’s perceived absence. Something you had gleaned about the family dynamic was that due to Kendall’s erratic past, it was more of a silent wish than an expectation that he showed up to most things.

“Fine.” You responded. “I’m only taking a couple hits.”

Kendall shook his head. “No. We’re smoking the whole thing. Halfsies.”

Smoking on the back balcony was a dream. The white smoke haloed around the two of you, tendrils of pungent air pulling the two of you together. You hadn’t spoken much since the ceremonial lighting of the joint, but you didn’t feel like you needed to. It could just be you and him and the ashen remains of marijuana, and it felt okay, peaceful. The problem between you two always just seemed to coincide with work. And talking. And your control issues.

“I have to admit something to you.” Kendall tapped the bud of the joint against the railing of the balcony. “Johnston isn’t here.”

You leaned forward, against the railing, plucking the remains of the joint from Kendall’s grasp. “What are you talking about?”

“He broke the deal off. He said we were ‘fucking suffocating to be around’.”

“What?” You asked, in shock. “Then why am I here?”

Kendall shoved his hands in his pockets, annoyed. “Like it’s so fucking bad.”

“I was on a date, Kendall. And you come in and act like I have an obligation to fucking come here, and then it was a lie, and I’m the bitch for being mad?” You crossed your arms over your chest, and Kendall pinched himself, a deterrent to not look at your breasts.

“Fuck off,” He said. “That wasn’t a date, that dude was an asshole.”

“From the 20 seconds you were near him?”

Kendall shrugged. “He’s a finance guy in Manhattan; pick your poison, do you want gonorrhea or a prenup first?”

“What?” You were delirious from the cold, the weed, his lies.

“He’s sleazy.”

“Why do you fucking care? Why am I here? You had a date–”

“Yes, I had a date, and then I cancelled on her because I would have rather you came. And you did come. And now you’re fucking yelling at me.”

You softened your voice, inhaling deeply. “What was wrong with the other date?”

“Nothing–I don’t know.”

You raised your eyebrows, a silent Okay, and?

“I just feel like–”

You interrupted. “You know what? I feel like this arrangement isn’t really working.”

“What arrangement?”

“Me and you. Working together. I mean, you take me to this gala under false pretenses when in reality I’m just your arm candy slash employee, and it feels like we’re toddlers shoved into those We’re gonna get along shirts. I just don’t understand this. I don’t understand you.”

Kendall swallowed. “Are you quitting?”

Your voice felt inverted, small. “I don’t know.” The bluntness of Kendall’s question confused you; the lack of nuance made it seem like he didn’t care, like it was good riddance to you. Maybe he wanted another assistant, one who gave him what he wanted regardless of her personal qualms, one who said “yes sir,” or “no sir,” and batted her eyelashes and was submissive to his incessant necessity for power.

Kendall took another drag from the joint; it was ashen, deteriorating in his grasp. It felt symbolic. “You shouldn’t quit. I think you should stay at Waystar. With me.”

“With you. That’s an interesting way to word it.” You quipped.

“I agree.” Kendall stepped closer to you, the heels of his leather shoes clacking against the ground. “Do you know how many times my dad or Shiv or Tom–and Roman especially– have told me to get rid of you?”

You were taken aback, hurt. “Wh-what?”

“Not because they don’t like you,” Kendall began. He leaned against the balcony, looking down at the limo parked in the middle of the cobblestone driveway. The license plate glimmered against the sliver of the moon, hanging in the sky like a pendant. “It’s because they see that I’m weaker when I’m around you. I’m fucking erratic and I act nineteen.”

You looked at his profile, but he averted eye contact.

“Like, I’m an asshole to you, but you don’t just take it and I like that. But you also have this fucking hold over me that I can’t explain.”

“Can you try to explain?”

Kendall chuckled. “I mean, like, when I saw you on that date. Pure coincidence that you were there, by the way; I was going to meet my date to this thing there. But then I saw you and I kind of just ghosted her.”

You joined him at the balcony, looking below. Another limousine had pulled up; a group of older businessmen and their wives in high neck silk dresses flooded out. “Oh,” was all you could muster.

“And I felt this deep anger when I saw you with that guy,” Kendall turned to you. “I was jealous and fucking protective.”

“Jealous?” The limo driver turned the engine off, leaving the keys on the front seat. As if blinking tiredly, the headlights fizzled out, and the driveway was empty, serene.

“Yes, I’m so fucking jealous.”

You looked at him, and finally, he turned to you. The silence allowed you to hear each other’s pulses thumping with the anticipation of the lust you both shared; it was ripened, sweet to the point of almost being rotten.

Breaking the silence, Kendall had an idea. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Kendall pulled your hand into his, and then you were running down the spiral staircase, past the other guests who wanted to speak with the fleeting Roy who was breathless, high, and for once, didn’t fucking care about Waystar, or meetings or finances.

He ran to the limo, catching his breath as he reached the one with the keys still perched on the driver’s seat. “Let’s hope they’re not locked in.”

“Ken, where are we going?” You smiled, dizzy from the change of pace, how he gleamed around you.

“Wherever the fuck you want.”

And then you were in the front seat. The heat was on and so was the engine, but Kendall sat, faced forward. A look of determination was etched into his face.

“What?” You asked.

Kendall spoke up. “I have to tell you–you look fucking perfect in that dress.” His hand held the back of your head and your heart leapt; it felt like it had jumped to the other side of your chest.

You didn’t know what to do; there were only two choices, what a shitty choose-your-own-adventure. But it was always important to go with your gut, even if it was spoiled by butterflies and the most overgrown lust you had ever had for anyone in your fucking life.

You closed the gap, pulling him in by his tie as his hands found your waist, pulling you on top of him. The horn honked, and Kendall smiled against you as he palmed your ass, his tongue swiping across your teeth. You opened your mouth, moaning into him.

“I fucking need you.” He said. “I fucking hate how much I need you.” He slid your core against his clothed cock, his head falling back at the feeling of the friction.

And then you were in the backseat, and he was on top of you. He pulled your heels off as you undid his tie. Kendall pushed your wrists together and held them above your head as he kissed your neck, pulling the straps of your dress down with his teeth.

“Kendall,” You moaned, arching into him. The moment was heated, of course, but also tinged with anger, a vicious hatred of how fucked up your dynamic was and how you were just about to fuck it up some more.

His mouth latched to your nipple as he palmed your other breast, letting go of your wrists, your hands quickly finding his head. You ground your hips against his, desperate for him. Any of him. You were soaked; you had been since he took that first drag of the joint, and you despised how easy you were for him, how willing. One cheap compliment and here you were, aching for him, his clothed cock nestled between your legs. It belonged there, and you knew it.

Kendall groaned into you as a trail of wet kisses led him back to your awaiting mouth. They were kisses that broke the rubber band of years worth of tension, of pent-up hatred that had metamorphized into something possibly akin to love.

He hiked your dress up around your waist, and pushed his hand against your cunt. You were shaking for him, wet and needy.

“Is this okay?” He asked. His thumb rubbed lazy circles on your clit, and you moaned out, bucking into his touch. Of course it was.

“Yes, fuck, Kendall.” You were flustered, so frustrated at how much you had to have him, at how you were letting him–your boss–take you at a company gala in the fucking company limo. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?” You hissed as he took his fingers away, yanking your thong down and putting your legs over his shoulder as he licked a thick stripe over your folds. He kissed your outer lips, so soft with his ministrations that it made you want to rip his hair out.

He moaned at your taste, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your thighs until his tongue lapped hungrily around your clit, two fingers pushing their way into your cunt. You were soaked for him; you thanked god that the seats were leather.

Kendall was messy yet precise; his hands gripped your thighs so hard he could feel your pulse. Your hands found his head, and you ground against his tongue as he ate you, starved.

He came up for air, still pumping his fingers into you. “Oh, I’m a fucking asshole?” He grabbed your jaw. “Always teasing me. Always fucking talking back.”

You whimpered when his fingers stopped pumping, begging for more with your eyes, with the rolling of your hips against him.

“See how it feels?” He pulled his fingers out completely. “Open your mouth for me. No fucking backtalk.”

You nodded, obliging. Kendall was bent over you, your legs around his waist. One of his hands was braced against the seat, the other holding your face in place, forcing you to look at him. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip as he spit into your mouth, urging you to swallow.

“Fuck.” He said. Looking down at you, your hair sprawled out on the seat, cheeks flushed and lips red and raw–he realized what he hated about you was that he fucking loved you, and everyone saw it but you. “Do you know how much I’ve thought about fucking you?”

“I have too. All the time.” You said, flustered. “Kendall, please.”

“Please, what?” He was cocky again.

“Fuck me.” You reached for his belt, and Kendall pressed the lock button on the door. The windows were fogged with steam, your silhouettes obscured by the tinted windows.

You could hear chatter moving closer to the driveway; the gala was probably ending soon.

Kendall shoved your hands away and unbuckled his belt, shimmying out of his neatly pressed pants as you unbuttoned his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. He tasted like you, like your sweat, your cunt.

“Fuck me, what?” Kendall teased.

“Fuck me, please,” You writhed in his touch as he lined himself up with your entrance. You wanted him and you wanted him raw.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, intent on teasing you, even if it made him ache in the process. Some things never changed. “God, your pussy is so wet.”

You pulled him closer with your legs, and he pushed into you, all at once. He hissed as he bottomed out, emitting a deep groan from the bottom of his throat.

“Fuck you,” He said. “Your cunt’s better than I ever fuckin’ imagined.”

You moaned, urging him to fuck you, to do something. “I’m wet,” You began. “All for you.”

“Yes,” He thrusted. “All for me.”

And then he was pounding into you, holding you to his chest. The sounds were obscene, slapping and wet and filthy, but you didn’t care about the gala outside or the fact that the boss you hated yet loved was fucking you. Deeply.

He hit that spot in you that made you scream, rolling his hips as he kissed you with an animalistic fervor.

“You better shut up,” He whispered in your ear. “Or they’re all gonna know what a fucking slut you’re being for your boss.”

Kendall pushed your legs back, hitting that deep spot that made you shake and squeeze around his cock. As your mouth opened, Kendall latched his hand over it, bending down to talk in your ear.

“Feels so fucking good.” He purred. “Fucking you raw.”

You heard the click of footsteps upon the uneven driveway, the polite farewells exchanged by the gala’s guests.

Kendall went even faster, his cock twitching at how overwhelmed you were, clawing at him, moaning into his neck, begging for more.

He felt himself getting close, the high from the joint intensifying his sensations tenfold.

“I’m gonna cum,” He moaned into your ear, his hands grabbing your tits, your ass–any part of you that he could.

He was about to pull out, but you locked your ankles around his waist, keeping him there, with you.

“Cum in me, I want your cum.” You arched into him.

That’s all it took for his orgasm to spill over, his hips jerking as his cum spurted in hot ropes inside you.

“Take my fucking cum. Be a good girl for once.” He cried.

His thumb rubbed against your clit, using your wetness and his as sufficient lubricant. You were already close, and his cock was still in you, semi-hard and twitching.

“Cum around my cock, sweet girl.” He whispered.

The voices were closer, and it felt harder to let go, until Kendall’s thumb pressed harder against you, his hips moving lazily against you.

His voice was softer now, nicer. “I want you to cum. I want to feel you.”

A few more slow thrusts and him playing with your aching clit was all it took for you to let go, your back bowing as you moaned his name so loud he had to press his hand against your mouth to shut you up.

Your moans were muffled, your legs shaking as Kendall finally pulled out, working you through your high.

“You’re so pretty, it pisses me off.” He grabbed your cheeks and kissed you, biting your lip, grabbing at your exposed ass. You could still feel his cum in you.

Your chest was heaving, and Kendall pulled your dress back up, adjusting your straps and smoothing your hair down with a delicate care you had never seen in him before.

“Are we ever gonna talk about this again?” You asked, putting his tie back on.

Kendall’s heart fluttered at the gesture, but wept at the question. “I think it would be impossible not to, Y/N.” After thinking for a second, he added, “Sex that good doesn’t just happen. It’s made.”

#kendall roy #kendall roy fic #kendall roy fanfic #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy smut #succession #succession fic #succession fanfic #succession x reader #roman roy #shiv roy #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch

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blue-jisungs · 1 year

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cute dog and his (cute) owner

a/n. i just finished once upon a small town (bc it’s been recently added on netflix in my country) and I’M OBSESSED!! joy from red velvet? check. puppies? check. cute male lead? check. cute supporting actor? check. immaculate cottage core-like vibes? check. so yep, that’s more or less the inspo behind this piece <3

i’m not a vet nor i’m a specialist when it comes to animals so if anything is wrong lmk 😭😭

warnings. like one swear word ?? , gaeul is vomiting 🧍‍♀️

you let yet another sigh of boredom as your character in subway surfers tragically slammed onto the train. you looked up and glared at the clock. 2:47am.

being a vet was everything you could ever dream of. being a vet on a nighttime shift, however…

sure, there were some night you didn’t sleep at all. but night like this one, on a monday morning were usually peaceful.

suddenly the door slammed open and you heard two voices.

“you idiot-!”

“what? they looked heavier so i-”

“just shut up, riki. you’re the reason why we’re here at this hour…”

“guys, can you be quieter…”

“is this even open?”

“the sign literally said open 24/7. besides, the door would be closed if it wasn’t–”

“jay, you love to sleep and you were just woken up on a monday morning. we get it. can you stop acting smart now?”

seven voices, apparently. what the hell happened?

you stepped out of the office and saw seven guys, in their pyjamas. one of them was holding a white dog in his arms.

“uh… good morning…?” he says and you notice the dog’s rapid breathing.

“sunghoon, now it’s not the time to get shy…” one of them sighs and looks at you “i’m heeseung. we’re here because his dog ate a bit of chocolate and he’s overreacting–”

“he’s not. the dog might have got poisoned from what i can tell” you interrupt him and walk up to the owner, who’s looking at you with wide eyes “did it vomit?”

“who…? oh. gaeul. yeah, she did” he answers and you gently take her away from him. you can tell he’s nervous but who wouldn’t be.

“oh boy, she messed up the whole kitchen” someone says and you sent him a glare.

“this is your biggest concern right now?” you ask and turn around to go into your office. they follow you like lost ducks.

“well, no but i’ll be the one who’s going to clean it anyways…” he scoffs and then you hear a smack.

“jay, shut up. she’s right” another voice says.

“what kind of chocolate did she eat?” you ask, voice firm, as you look for the antidote. you hope it wasn’t–

“dark chocolate. i think. i’m not sure, i just saw a glimpse of it” someone else answers.

“fuck”

you turn around and realise they heard you and sunghoon’s face is turning white on your eyes. then you hear gaeul gagging.

“will she be okay?” her owner murmurs and you sigh at the sight of your floor being covered in vomit.

“hopefully– how much did she eat?” you ask and finally find the antidote. your eyes meet with sunghoon concerned one.

“it’s hard to tell. i only noticed when she was finishing it” one of them said and you noticed the owner blinking.

“okay. get sunghoon… that’s your name, right?” you ask and he nods. heeseung puts his hands on his friend’s arms “get sunghoon some water, please. and get out, i need to work”

and even after they leave and close the door, you can still hear them.

“sunghoon, sit down. i don’t want you to pass out…”

“i won’t, jungwon” he sighs and there’s a long moment of silence before he says “she’s cute…”

“oh my god, sunghoon! you were yelling at us ten minutes ago and now you already forgot about your dog because of a cute vet?!”

“yah, excuse you. i didn’t forget about gaeul, she literally got poisoned because of riki’s ignorance! and could you be quiet, sunoo? she might hear us…”

you let out a deep sigh and looked at gaeul who was peacefully munching on a snack. you took her gently on your hands and walked out of the room, heading to the hallway.

you stumbled upon an adorably sleeping sunghoon, lips slightly parted and his bangs falling freely on his forehead. you heard his friends left him here because, well, they had to go to work.

you firmly but not too rapidly shook his shoulder and he jolted his body, back straightening and eyes snapping open.

“hi” you whispered and he sent you a warm smile before looking down at his dog.

“gaeul!” he grinned and opened his arms. you handed him the dog over and as soon as she was in his arms, sunghoon started scratching her ear gently “is she alright?”

“yes. i’m not gonna lie, it was a very serious situation. but, as gross as it sounds, luckily she was vomiting almost all night so the poison is out. well, chocolate. because of that she’s highly dehydrated so please make sure she has some fresh water when you’re back home” you explained carefully, his eyes fixed on you “do you have a car?”

“no, i’ll order a taxi. thank you. how much is it–” sunghoon started searching for his wallet and his eyes widened. right. in panic he forgot to take his things with him.

“do you live far away from here?” you asked, seeing what’s wrong.

“uh, kind of. i mean it’s half an hour drive but on foot it would take much longer” he mumbled and looked at you, confused.

you grinned, nodding your head.

“i’ll drop you off. my college is on her way and i’m going home anyways” you explained and grabbed your keys from the countertop.

“really? woah, thank you so much” sunghoon sent you the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen “oh, and i can pay you that way! i’ll just grab my wallet then and pay”

the ride to his place was filled with laughs. he turned out to be a pretty interesting person. you didn’t even realise when you arrived.

“remember to give her lots of water” you said, pointing at gaeul. he nodded, a troubled expression on his face.

“of course. can– can i have your number? just you know… if she gets worse… or something…” he mumbled, his ears reddening.

“sure” you grin and point at his phone. he gives you it and you type your private number along with the contact name. then you give it back to him.

“thank you. for everything. i hope you have a great day!” the boy nods, opening the door.

“thank you, sunghoon. and you too” you sent him a soft smile and pet gaeul’s head gently before he stands up.

sunghoon’s smile widens and he leaves the car. you watch him until he disappears in the entrance of the building and drive away, without realising how hard you’re smiling (or that he forgot to pay, again)

you hum one of your favourite songs underneath your breath, the cat purring and rubbing its head against your head - even though it was scratching you seconds ago. for the whole week your head was filled with thoughts about the tall, kind of awkward but absolutely adorable boy.

you were kind of nervous. yeah, he said you’re cute and he has your number but… it’s been a week and he still haven’t called. on the other hand, he seems shy so you’d understand if that took him a while. nevertheless, you still wonder if he will ever appear again in your life…

“y/n, there’s a patient!” your colleague calls from the reception and you sigh, putting the cat back to its cage.

“i’m coming–!” you announce as you open the door and literally freeze in the doorway when your eyes stumble upon him. a wide smile springs on your lips “hi”

“hi” sunghoon grins, fingers tightening on the pet carrier’s handle. you grin and walk up to him

“hi. is something wrong with gaeul?” you ask, worried. his eyes widen and then he lets out a nervous chuckle.

“well, you see–” he starts and you kneel down to look at the dog through the crates.

“she seems okay but…” you start and then he takes a deep breaths and starts spitting out words at the immaculate speed.

“she’s okay but i really wanted to see you and i forgot to pay last time, i felt so bad and also you’re so pretty and nice i was thinking if you wanna go out?” was what he said but all you heard was just a chaotic mass of incomprehensible words.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t quite–” you mumbled, puzzled. gaeul barked and you heard someone clearing their throat. that’s when you realised your co-worker is still here.

“should i just check up on the dog?” she asks and sunghoon freezes.

“no, she’s fine” he answers and takes a deep sigh, again “i just wanted to see you”

“me?” you ask in disbelief and stand up, looking at him shocked.

“yeah… well…” the boy mumbles, his confidence slowly disappearing. then you connect the dots with what he said earlier.

“you think i’m cute, that’s why?” you grinned and saw his cheeks flushing.

“don’t make me repeat what i said earlier” he mumbled and gaeul barked.

“i’m not. you know what? i think we should take her on a walk. and maybe then we can grab some coffee?” you ask, trying your best to fight your smile from widening. he nods eagerly, relieved that you somehow caught on.

“i’d love to– i mean… sure. and the coffee’s on me” sunghoon smiles sweetly and gaeul barks happily. really, how is he so adorable?

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @julaute

#enhypen sunghoon #enha sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon #enha scenarios #enha fics #enhypen x you #enha #enha fluff #enha x reader #enha reactions #enhypen #sunghoon #enha drabbles #enha imagines #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n

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ashisgreedy · 10 months

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Masterlist

CURRENTLY BROKE

⚠️UNDER CONSTRUCTION 🚧

Read on Ao3

⚠︎ MDNI

-Garreth Weasley-

⋆ ࣪. Smut˖ ࣪⭑

F!MC “My Fire In Your Veins” Dragon-Shifter AU ✍️

F!MC "Fulfilling a Fantasy" Anal Sex✍️

F!MC “I Like Men On Their Knees~" Anilingus ✍️

F!MC "A Potion Of You" Professor Ch. 2✍️

M!MC “I Don’t Want To Be Parted From You" Mutual Masterbation✍️♂️

F!MC “I Don’t Want To Be Parted From You.” Mutual Masterbation✍️

F!MC "Good Boyfriend" Fingering✍️

F!MC "Get A Room!" Foreplay/Feeding ✍️

F!MC "A Punishment Game" Spanking ✍️

F!MC "Everyday Is Kind of the Same~" Stoner!Gar

F!MC "Please Don't Tell..." Bodyguard AU ✍️

F!MC "You're Desperate" Cock warming Long AUDIO 🔊

F!MC "I'm Going To 'Play', and You're Going to Play." Long AUDIO 🔊

F!MC "Let Go, Come For Me AUDIO 🔊

F!MC "I'm Very Whiney" AUDIO 🔊

F!MC Eating out | Face Sitting AUDIO 🔊

⋆ ࣪. Fluff˖ ࣪⭑

F!MC "A Potion Of You" Professor Ch. 1 ✍️

HC F!MC - As Your Boyfriend✍️

F!MC "The Antidote" ✍️

-Richard Jackdaw-

Lore: Richard Jackdaw: A Timeline of Events.

⋆ ࣪. Smut˖ ࣪⭑

F!MC - "You and Jack" Spectrophilia | Voyeur | "Forbidden" love ✍️

⋆ ࣪. Fluff˖ ࣪⭑

Richard Flirting AUDIO 🔊

Jackdaw & Garreth Make A Deal Part 1 AUDIO 🔊

Jackdaw & Garreth's Deal Part 2 AUDIO 🔊

Richard's Letter To Anne AUDIO 🔊

-Sebastian Sallow-

⋆ ࣪. Smut˖ ࣪⭑

F!MC "Catch-A-Ride" Forced O/Made to Cum✍️ || Biker!Seb Pic Inspo ||

F!MC Ignoring Kink Drabble ✍️

Fluff: Lifeguard!Sebastian Sallow x You ✍️

-Ominis Gaunt-

⋆ ࣪. Smut˖ ࣪⭑

Vampire!Ominis Gaunt x F! You | Biting TW:Blood Kink ✍️

-Imelda Reyes-

⋆ ࣪. Smut˖ ࣪⭑

F!MC “In Her Embrace” ✍️

~Random~

GIF -Garreth Leaning on desk

Scenario Event - You're at A HL House Party Music HC✍️

⋆ ࣪.Music Playlists˖ ࣪⭑

Richard Jackdaw - A Moody Playlist 🎶

⋆ ࣪.OC content˖ ࣪⭑

Introducing: Cole Knight - OC

Introducing Bowbert - OC

Please let me know if any links don't work/are wrong. Thank you!

#masterlist #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #richard jackdaw #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt

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sterlingarcher23 · 4 months

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Stranger Things - Matrix... "He" is the One

The Matrix (inspo board) scene is actually the ElMax love confession and revival. Um, yes, love confession. Similar to Lucas confessing earlier that season saying "But I see you now", El's "You are not going." was a coded "ILY". Neo was dead. His heart stopped thanks to Smith. (So comparing this scene to Mike & El ... Wouldn't really work.) - They only changed the sequence. If you want to read further into it, real world Neo = Max because it's her physical representation in the Void, Matrix Neo = El because she's the only actual "ghost" in this scene. You can swap the kissing scene and Neo stopping the bullets here....it's basically the same. I mean it's an inspo not a 1:1 recreation.

Which means....

...both are. One & One = 11

The Tangled reference made by the writers (Twitter I think) is there to describe to us the exact same moment of revival but in this case the antidote is shown to be the characters of Rapunzel/El themselves.

Oh, and of course this is technically....

......................................

Sidenote: just like Trinity reviving Neo through a love confession basically broke the Matrix, El may have broken the whole cycle of doom they are in. Which would explain why she can't find Max in the Void. I want to leave the details to another post.

#elmax #max mayfield #stranger things #el hopper #elmax nation #elmax is endgame #stranger things analysis #elmax my beloved #eleven hopper #eleven stranger things #eleven and max #max x eleven

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coiledqueen · 29 days

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Congratulations, you found me! Tiny lil' secret sideblog for PIKE QUEEN LUCY of the BATTLE FRONTIER. Penned by Dan (30, he/him.)

Follows from @avacynthia. Same general rules from that blog apply here as well. Above all: be cool. And please be patient with me!

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I am currently planning to play Lucy in a tabletop game and created this blog to further immerse myself into the character and practice writing her. In addition, I will be planning to play Lucy primarily on DISCORD, though asks/threads will still be made available here. If you'd prefer 1x1 Discord, let me know. Lowish activity planned, threads/inspo pending.

---

QUICK LUCY NOTES

(+) sharp, dedicated, honest, resilient/tough (+/-) quiet, haughty/arrogant, blunt, chip on shoulder, thrill seeker (-) dismissive, merciless, caustic *A Clair/Eris fusion, if you will-

Late 20s. Tall, slender (but toned) physique. Small scars mark her body after years of field work with dangerous Pokemon.

One of Hoenn's most brutal (and reclusive) Frontier Brains. Queen of the Pike.

Obsessed with serpents and poison. Has a wealth of knowledge concerning poison effects and their antidotes. She's resistant to most toxins at this point.

When not at the Battle Pike, she can be found in the Safari Zone doing unofficial "field research." Or at another Frontier facility, sharpening her skills.

Reckless. Likes dangerous situations, pushing past limits, living life on the edge.

Pansexual. She's mean and has never held a romantic relationship for any period of time. The Pike seems to be her only true obsession.

Team: Seviper, Steelix, Gyarados, Milotic and Shuckle. Other Poison types on standby.

LUCY BACKSTORY (DEATH TW)

Born in the impoverished seaport districts of Lilycove. Lucy's father was a volatile sailor who quickly left the picture. Her mother found work maintaining the fledgling Hoenn Safari Zone.

Unable to afford childcare as a single parent, Lucy's mother would sneak her into the Safari Zone break rooms when she was younger. Lucy would routinely wander off, and grew up around Hoenn's rarest, wildest species.

It was during this time that she became enamored with serpentine Pokemon in general--inspired by their merciless hunting techniques, strength and guile. (During one fateful encounter, she was badly poisoned by a Seviper. Following a lengthy hospital stay that her mother couldn't afford, Lucy used the Seviper's own techniques to capture it with a 'borrowed' capsule. Her first Pokemon.)

Lucy was ten when her mother suffered a fatal allergic reaction to Vileplume poison while working in the field. One day later, with her sheltered world completely upended, an orphaned Lucy won Hoenn's Loto-iD sweepstakes on a desperate chance pull. It was then that she began believing in luck and fate, fortune and misfortune.

Instead of wallowing, Lucy turned her winnings into opportunity, enrolling in Mossdeep's most prestigious boarding school. Despite not attending any classes to this point, Lucy wasted little time tearing up the class rankings. It was a merciless ascent, and classmates labeled her as cruel and callous as she blitzed past them all. Her supreme work ethic landed her a full ride scholarship to further hone her battling skills (and toxicology studies) at university.

Lucy's battles were explosive, quick, and brutal. Her serpents reigned supreme, and an upstart entrepreneur named Scott couldn't help but take notice...

Years later, the Battle Pike is a brutal, fanged gauntlet demanding both skill and luck to pass. Only a handful of trainers have emerged from the coils to challenge Lucy, and fewer have succeeded.

She's braved storms and trampled flowers to arrive at this peak. And in this facility, the Pike Queen is the apex predator.

**art credits: Ken Sugimori and other official Pokemon artwork

#(pinned post.)

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kattpop · 1 year

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warning ! pop girl project lore talking . The topic is card attributes

like I said I wanna like research game graphics n how to approach mine in future, but I have sketches in procreate of the general ~vibe~ I wanna go for, esp in regards to card attributes.

Usually in rhythm games there are just three, made vague on purpose so as to fit as many themes and genres as possible per attribute. This, I think, is to limit the number of variables the devs r forced to work with.

But since this isn’t a real game I can go Pokémon on this >>>>:3 and unlike most idol games, attributes would be assigned to individual cards, not the idols themselves, due to the inspo being kpop concepts

Mature - costumes or songs with mature content (while this mostly refers to sensuality, it can also apply to things like more grown up themes - Stella Jang’s “Villain” was a main inspo)

Cute - self explanatory. Candy Pop by Twice, I’m Poppy by That Poppy, that kinda thing

Cyber - ok maybe controversial but I felt this was best for capturing both the 2000s pop “future is now” obsession and current day sci fi concepts; think Doja’s Planet Her, TLC’s Scrubs and Girl’s Generation’s Mr Taxi, Run Devil Run, etc

Dark - hnnng again, me kinda genre and aesthetic mashing here. Trying to split hairs with “horror”, “dark” and “cult” concepts was too much, so I grouped them under Dark. Think Girls by Nature or Turn off the Light by Kim Petras

Elegant - Twice’s Feel Special inspired this one, things like FH’s Deliver fit too

Fantasy - WJSN’s Save Me Save You, Black Magic by Little Mix

Teen - This one’s a huge mixed bag. It encompasses everything from Teen Crush kpop to school day themed songs and songs inspired by teen films. Crush by Weki Meki, Oogoe Diamond by AKB48 and The Feels by Twice

Powerful - self empowerment themes !! women crushing it at work themes !! Citizen Queen, Fifth Harmony, Lee Hyo Ri, Tsai Jolin and XG all have songs that correlate to this (to varying degrees)

Girly - ranges from women being badass things while in pink ! (Think Kill this Love by Blackpink or Mirror Mirror by Kamille) . To the softest fluff imagineable, like Exist for Love by Aurora and most of Raveena’s songs . Wahoo.

Athletic - it happens more often than u think. Touchdown by Twice, Tsugi no Season by BNK48 (yes ino it’s from akb. The Thai version is better xdddd)

Party - holiday by snsd, antidote by Faky. Usually “summer” songs but I didn’t wanna limit it to seasonal songs

Retro - so self explanatory it doesn’t need an example but. Say So by Doja Cat xd

Quirky - pon pon pon by Kyary Pambu Pambu, carmelldansen by ..,, carmell

#man this was satisfying . I love grouping things and pattern matching #I’m so normal #I need to sleep . but this is the lore dump for today

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letstrywritingmaybe · 5 months

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Starting to think me being productive is the reason for my sports woes, so maybe I should stop writing. Meanwhile I finally wrote snow on the beach for midnights. I’m gonna chill for real though and read my books I got from the library that I haven’t touched yet

Update: I know I said no writing. But I just have to note googling lawyer from reading through emails to make sure they’re not divorce lawyers as an idea. Group chat convos that are not fandom related can also lead to great inspo

Update 2: still very much stuck on this ship and got no reading done. It hasn’t even been a full day. Good news is I wrapped all of my Christmas presents! And I have no desire to write so I guess I’m still going strong on the no more writing and see if that ends my sports woes. Will still be doing my regular updates though. And while I’m here, I reread my green card au today and it’s so self indulgent, I’m so happy I wrote it. I was kinda stressed while writing it and I wasn’t super happy with the ending at first, but when I went to reread it today I was like you know what? This reads like a shitty drama, and I’m okay with that. I mean I used to watch terrible dramas all the time, and I liked some of them. They can’t compare to the really good ones, but they have their moments. So yeah. I’m glad I wrote it and included American references cause it’s what I know

Update 3: I know I have no business saying shit cause I’ve written it before, but idk if I could see them cheating tbh. At least not in canon, which kinda gave me an idea that’s semi similar to a fic I read before… but I digress cause I’m still on my own writers strike. I think I’ve been ruined by the summer series and the vampire diaries, I’m really not fond of brothers fighting for the same person. Even if that person is my queen, it’s just so messy! So awkward too once you get past the initial stuff that people find intriguing about love triangles. Best case scenario in my eyes will always be the person they fight over doesn’t choose either and the brothers are cool again. But that never happens. I’m very family oriented so it just makes me sad to think that it fucks everything up. I know I’ve written about messy ship drama, but I don’t think I’m fond of reading it. Even when I’m writing it myself I’m kinda just like why is this happening? I don’t enjoy the process, but sometimes the story calls for it. Cause my fics write themselves and have a mind of their own. Idk I would just rather it be a non family member fighting for my queen. Plus in the context of shinshi versus CoShi, shinshi wins every time for me. I like when they both take the antidote or they both stay as their shrunken forms. I like when they’re equals. It’s literally the reason why I’ve never written a ShinAi fic despite it being popular. I hate the idea of it. I’m such a hater of the canon ship that I hate them even getting a shot for like ten years while my queen doesn’t get to move on. That’s so unfair. I would much rather she get to date and try and fall in love with other people too, instead of just waiting for him to turn around and realize he loves her. *sigh I just read some fics and I’m having mixed feelings, so I’m venting here cause I’m not an asshole who says mean shit in comments. Easiest way to get on my shit list is to hide behind screens and spread hatred, we get enough of that irl

Update 4: I was onto something about not writing to end my sports woes! My pens won!!! And we scored TWO Power Play Goals!!!! And a shortie!!! And it was big Jeff Carter!??!!?? Alright, I guess I should never write again. But to celebrate I will probably post the last chapter of devour so I can wrap up another wip

#cynful babbles #I also finally got my hands on a Sherlock Holmes book and am currently halfway through it #so that’s been cool I guess. tbh I don’t get shinichi’s fascination so far #I’m more of a Poirot fan myself but I haven’t read all the books/series so I shouldn’t count Holmes out yet #also got another poirot book to read too and I’m excited about that

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fishstyx · 2 years

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your nagito fics are literally INSANE theyre so good thank you for your service

hehe thank you my angel ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧ i’m glad u like them!!

#i miss that unstable little freak #need some new inspo…#🍣.dispatch #http.404 #antidote

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emo-elysium · 4 years

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Side B

You’re a vaporwave

An 80s, 90s baby

The knee highs

And skylines

#poem #poet #poetry #words #writing #thoughts #music #songs #lyrics #song writer #musician #vapor #wave #vaporwave #night #mood #nightmode #nightmood #antidote #inspo #love #dance

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nataliadeleon · 3 years

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☀ natalia’s tags

#☀ you’ll believe god is a woman: { vanity }#☀ loving you’s the antidote...you’re so golden: { musings }#☀ there's a little bit of a devil in her angel eyes: { threads }#☀ have you seen her all in gold? like a queen of old: { inspo }#☀ here comes the sun { asks }#☀ The Sun: { tarot }

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millionlittlepapercutsx · 3 years

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Castiel | 42 | Nurse | Confused Angelic Bear.

─ the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of MISHA COLLINS - but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of JACK DYING strikes you. perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself - you’re CASTIEL AKA CASTIEL RHODES, an FORTY-TWO YEAR OLD NURSE whose virtue lies in your + PERCEPTIVE & + STRONG, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - INSENSITIVE & - SULLEN, and you’re associated with BLACK ANGEL WINGS IN THE SHADOWS, A RARE SMILE THAT LIGHTS UP THE ROOM AND WONDER OF A WALKING TODDLER by those around you. suddenly, however, you’ve found A STRANGE BLADE on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse, memories from your life in SUPERNATURAL have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you. you can almost hear COLD by CROSSFADE following in your wake.

#duality.intro #i see that i never really got it right: castiel #i never stopped to think of you: intro #i'm always wrapped up in things i cannot win: inspo #your the antidote that gets me by: pics #i never meant to be so cold: events

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okaybutcolor · 6 years

Photo

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

Can I please please request one where Natasha and Yelena have another younger sister (Y/N) and she gets badly injured and her older sisters are hysterical since they’re afraid to lose one they love the most

A Race Against Time | romanoff fam fic

Summary: Natasha and Yelena do their best to help their hurt younger sister.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

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header c @/twitalents

“Everybody alright?” Natasha asked as Alexei and Melina approached her and Yelena. The redhead herself definitely hadn’t gotten out of the whole ordeal without injuries. In fact, from Dreykov punching her to the fight against the Widows, and the fight against Antonia (not to mention the injuries from the past few days that she hadn’t taken care of), she was in some pain. However she didn’t worry about herself, she knew she’d be fine. She always was.

Natasha glanced over and spotted Y/N making her way over to them, too. From the distance, Natasha couldn’t tell that she was limping and was very hurt.

“I am clearly injured,” Melina deadpanned, causing Natasha to look back over and send her adoptive mother a smile as an apology. With a quick glance, Natasha could tell that she’d be okay, she’d just need a cast on that ankle and-

Thump.

The sound, accompanied by Yelena’s loud gasp and yelp, broke through Natasha’s thoughts and caused her to whip around suddenly. The sight her eyes landed on instantly sent what felt like an ice shard plunging into her chest. No. No.

By the time she snapped out of it, Yelena was already by Y/N’s unconscious figure, which the thump must have been - her plummeting to the ground - and Alexei was helping Melina over as fast as he could. Natasha sped past them and dropped to her knees, her brain wired to already be processing the situation and formulating a plan, while she lightly stopped Yelena’s wrist to prevent her from going to shake Y/N.

“You don’t move someone who is unconscious unless necessary - it could injure them,” she breathed out. Yelena, who could see that her older sister was in autopilot mode, sat back and let her do her thing, opting to look up at her parents, instead.

Both their eyes were glued to Y/N. Alexei’s eyebrows crinkled and, after taking a big breath, muttered (just loud enough for them to hear), “There’s blood on you.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped down and sure enough, her knees were bloodied. She quickly looked up only to see blood beginning to come from Y/N’s stomach where she had fallen on her side. Closing her eyes for a moment to allow herself to think, Natasha carefully and gently pulled up Y/N’s shirt, only to see an open gash in the shape of the Widow hourglass.

“Wha-?” She said, barely forming a word, and Yelena leaned over to see.

She immediately began shaking her head and pushed Y/N onto her back. “I-I know what this is, I think. I remember hearing about a weapon that’d leave that mark,” she rambled out.

Melina peered over Natasha’s shoulder and when she saw it, her face went pale. “That-that weapon, it ejects a blast that makes that mark when it meets the skin. It was made as a precaution in case any of the Widows went rogue - it was made years ago. But only a few were made because they were so confident in themselves. It-it goes along with a process they constructed to re-brainwash the Widows. The blast gets under her skin, in her body, with a chemical that’s in it, and that chemical starts the brainwashing process,” she explained.

A park of hope entered Yelena’s eyes. “So she won’t be fully brainwashed?” She asked.

“Not without the rest of the procedure,” Melina began, but then her eyes widened when she remembered something and horror quickly flashed across her face. “But if the process isn’t completed within a certain time period, the chemical will wear off its brainwashing effects and instead will start hurting her . . . A lot . . . But I have an antidote-” her tone sped up now, “-It’s back at the house. We need to get her there.”

Natasha and Yelena nodded, both having gone through a great wave of emotions throughout Melina’s words. Yelena, while racked with worry, still remained hopeful, and Natasha did her best to be, too, but her tears were drying and she was sniffling.

“The jet is-” Alexei began to say, when the sound of the engines of cars rapidly approaching cut him off.

Natasha looked over. “Shit, Ross,” she said, regretting even tipping him off to their location in the first place.

Melina bit her lip. “You girls go. Take Y/N home. The antidote is labelled ‘Ant-Widow,’,” she told them firmly.

Yelena’s lips parted to protest, not wanting to split up, but catching Natasha picking up Y/N out of the corner of her eye stopped her. She nodded, rising to her feet.

“We’ll distract them. They won’t want anything to do with us when they realize you’re not here,” Melina insisted.

Natasha sent her a look that she could only hope was conveying everything she wanted it to. A million thoughts whizzed about in her mind, none making room for each other. She wondered, would they leave them alone? Or would they be taken into questioning? Shouldn’t she be the one facing Ross - since she called him there? Is Y/N going to be okay? Will they get there in time?

By the way Melina looked back at her, Natasha thought that her message had been received. There was no time to go over the plan any longer, if they stayed even a couple more seconds they’d get caught by Ross, whose army of cars headed to a halt.

Natasha bolted off in the jet’s direction, Yelena quick on her heels. They rushed inside and Natasha took her time to gently put Y/N down before going to the pilot seat. Yelena sat down in the back, wanting to watch over their little sister.

Neither of them said anything until Natasha had gotten them off the ground and away from the field. Yelena could hear the engine whirring and she knew that Natasha was going as fast as this aircraft could probably go.

“Natasha,” she said, her voice small and hesitant, reminding Natasha of her own self when she was younger. The redhead braced herself for her sister’s words. “Do you think we’ll get there in time?”

Natasha let out a slow yet steady breath, fighting back the urge to tell her not to say that. She wondered the same thing, and she hated it. She didn’t answer, though, because she didn’t want to lie. She didn’t know herself, and she also hated that.

Yelena looked down in defeat when she didn’t get an answer and continued watching Y/N. She couldn’t stop herself from worrying and when she spotted the other injuries — bruises, cuts, scrapes — littering her body, she got up and went to the back.

The blonde grabbed the med kit they had stored and went back, quickly opening it up and getting everything she needed. First, bandages. Yelena put pressure on the wound even though she knew it wouldn’t bleed out, and a twinge of guilt hit her when Y/N moved and groaned unconsciously.

She then wrapped up Y/N’s stomach and tended to her other injures, every so often glancing at Natasha, who she could see by the way she was sitting up straight that she was tense. Upset. Worried. Yelena had to admit she was feeling those same things but busied herself by taking care of Y/N.

This carried on and they were about ¾ there when everything shifted. Y/N, who had been mostly quiet throughout the journey, suddenly rolled onto her side, eyes opening with a startled gasp.

Natasha frantically looked up at Yelena and the latter jumped to resolve the situation. Gently, she put her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders and tried to turn her onto her back, but Y/N fought her off and scurried back, against the wall.

“Y/N,” Yelena said, slowly putting her hands up in a “surrender” gesture.

The younger one shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “It-it hurts,” she got out, wrapping her arms around herself.

Yelena sent Natasha a frightened, desperate look and the glint in Natasha’s eyes held tears in them. “I can’t go any faster!” She cried out in frustration, her anger at her helplessness beginning to grow.

Yelena turned back to Y/N. “Take deep breaths with me, okay?” She said, and took a couple deep breaths to show her. It took Y/N a second, but she followed along. However, the pain didn’t take a break for long, and quickly came crashing back to her, like a magnet.

She let out another cry, but this one filled with that much more anguish, desperation, a pure rage from wanting it to be over, a rage that nearly caused her to vomit. Y/N leaned forward, hoping that there was something - anything - that could relieve this pain for even just a second. The warmth she was soon filled with from her older sister’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her close did nothing to soothe pain, but she found someone to have a steady grip on, someone to hold.

This continued on. In every cry let out, Yelena could’ve sworn each one was louder than the last. She didn’t know what to do so she did the only thing she could and stayed there. After a particularly loud cry from Y/N, Yelena couldn’t stop a “Natasha!” from escaping.

“I’m trying!” She shouted over the engine and over Y/N, doing her best to blink away the tears and focus, but everytime she was on the brink of it, something tore her away.

After what felt like what could only be described as eons, Natasha managed to touch down in the same spot she had just a day ago. The moment they made contact, she leapt out of her seat, nearly tumbling to the floor, and practically fell against the door.

“Stay with her,” was all she said to Yelena before pushing all her weight against the door and breaking off into a run towards the house.

Natasha had run fast before. To escape Antonia, on countless SHIELD missions, and even to beat Sam in a race, but none amounted to this. The mountains and trees whipped by so fast that she felt like she was in a race car and it made her head spin. Nonetheless (and she thanked her extensive training for that), Natasha’s stamina held out and she ran through the house, tripping over things and knocking others over, until she reached Melina’s office.

At first, everything looked like a normal office space for a normal business woman, but the underlying science and spy secrecy that she knew had to be inside was revealed. Cabinets upon cabinets filled with vials upon vilas and files upon files. She scoured the entire room and nearly dropped the green-filled file when she saw its label. This was it.

A moment of victory passed until Natasha remembered the weight of the situation and she got back on her feet, running like the wind, and leaving behind the office looking like some raccoons had gotten inside.

By the time she reached the top of the hill, Natasha could make out the outline of Yelena carrying Y/N (who was draped over her like a curtain, by the way) toward her.

They met in the middle and Yelena put Y/N down, the older sisters kneeling beside her. Y/N was half-conscious at this point and Natasha moved at the speed of light to get the vial lid off. “She was getting worse, I couldn’t wait!” Yelena yelled.

When she got it open, Natasha pushed it towards Y/N’s lips. “Y/N, honey, c’mon, you gotta drink,” she encouraged, hand trembling as Y/N attempted to fight her off. It was only Yelena running her hands through her hair that calmed her down, and she took a small sip of the vial’s contents at first before gulping it down.

When she stopped squirming and seemed to no longer be in pain, instead falling into a peaceful sleep, that’s when both Natasha and Yelena had calmed down. It had been a rollercoaster, but they did it, and she was okay. The two held each other, relieved.

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